


Du Riechst So Gut

by TheAngryKimchi



Series: Kinky Kimchi [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark Thor (Marvel), Dubious Consent, Jotunn Thor (Marvel), Kinktober 2018, M/M, Obsession Kink, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Scent Kink, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngryKimchi/pseuds/TheAngryKimchi
Summary: Thor’s out of his mind. Unable to come down from the berserker high.He’s snarling and roaring, pushing out of his way giants three times taller than him.His mind is screaming.He needs to find him.





	Du Riechst So Gut

 

His heart is palpitating, bright red vision flaring white at the edges. The stench of blood is thick in the air. The bodies hundreds on the icy ground.

Thor’s own blood oozing sluggishly from a wound on his side taken by an Aesir, a runt compared to Thor.

But all’s inessential to what his senses scream for.

Thor squats low on the ground and sweeps up a few drops of blood, bringing them on his lips to taste.

The scent’s so fine. Sallacious and spicy, with a hint of magic and sun. It's dizzying, intoxicating.

Thor has to find the little mage.

* * *

Loki slumps on the recliner of his room. He is battle-worn and dirty. Sweat rolls down his neck, mixing with the droplets of blood from a thin slice.

His hand is trembling when he brings it up to wipe at the stinging cut. It comes back painted red. Crimson against pale white.

He shivers when the image of the barbarian attacks his mind; towering above him, face cruel and murderous, horrifying. Blond hair done in plaits on the sides of his head, dirtied with crusted blood.

Loki’s lucky to have escaped with only a small cut.

* * *

His world is narrowed down to a single purpose. His rage is burning hot and his blood boiling in his veins.

Thor’s out of his mind. Unable to come down from the berserker high.

He’s snarling and roaring, pushing out of his way giants three times taller than him.

His mind is screaming.

He needs to find him.

_Find him._

_He needs to refrain!_

* * *

It’s been a month, however, the image of the Jötunn is alive in his nightmares.

Loki’s nights are full of red eyes, such deep crimson they almost look black, teeth sharp to a point and hands that can easily cover the entirety of his face, circle his waist, lift him up or swat him out of the way effortlessly. 

He wakes up panting, terrified, but wanting.

Loki feels sick.

* * *

Thor tries to hold onto sanity, whatever thin ropes of it still reside in him, but the smell of the mage’s blood is vivid in his nose. It drags him closer to the frenzy calling out to him with its siren's song.

He tries to resist the urge. Refrain.

No.

He tries to find him, catch a whiff of his sweat, a glance of his hair.

It takes months.

He gets out of Jotunheim. Searches in Vanaheim, Alfheim , Nidavellir, Svartalfheim lead by thin trails of his essence.

Thor follows him, but he is always a second too late.

* * *

It’s become a habit to look over his shoulder. For his skin to break out into shivers. For his nights to turn sleepless.

Loki’s eyes are dark-circled, red-rimmed, shining with a crazy glint.

Someone’s following him. He can feel it. He can feel _him,_ but he cannot see him.

Red eyes and white teeth chase his dreams.

His body is in constant desire.

No matter, he tries to get away.

* * *

Thor crawls after the trails left behind, half-mad and desperate.

His gums are itching, his hackles are rising.

There’s a path of bodies left behind him.

Not even one of them is _him._

Thor needs to catch him.

Soon.

* * *

Loki is losing his mind. He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, he cannot _breathe_. _  
_

The only thing he can do is run. Run away like a scared rodent for he knows _he_ is after him.

He doesn’t know how, still he knows it. He is absolutely certain.

His heart is always beating hard, painfully against his ribcage.

Loki is slowly crossing the bridge to insanity. He only hopes the giant will wait at the other side when he does.

If he is to go down he will, with _him_ following.

* * *

Thor isn’t used to that much sun, it’s confusing him, making him take a couple too many wrong turns and allow the mage to slip away.

He cannot have that.

There is no reason behind his quest. There is no great honour waiting for him at the end, no glory gifting him with his kin’s gratitude and pride.

There’s only one prize; the mage.

And Thor will have him.

He will find him.

* * *

Loki has been on the run for half a year; his magic is the only thing keeping him sane.

He has jumped through every Realm, but he is still being followed.

Climbing a mountain in Muspelheim, he is hoping the heat will keep the Frost Giant away.

Sweat is drenching his body, stinging his eyes, but he continues his ascend.

Loki has to get away, no matter how raw his fingers will become from the sharp stones, no matter how much blood he will leave behind.

He needs to keep running.

He needs to stop.

* * *

He doesn’t see him yet, but he can _feel_ him. Thor can smell his fear.

He smells good, so good. Thor’s nostrils flare, eyelids flutter.

He is close. He will have him.

Thor is the predator and the little Aesir his pray and _he will have him._

* * *

Loki crumbles a step over the edge. Breath coming out in hoarse pants.

He summons a flask of water and drinks until his stomach hurts.

Magic won’t be of help if he reaches Loki. It had showed so the first time around. And his power has been diminished from all that running and hiding.

Loki shivers, looking at the three moons of the Realm. Muspelheim is dark red, reminding him of the beast’s eyes.

The roar makes Loki gasp.

_He_ ’s close.

* * *

He smells so much better up close. His essence catching on Thor’s nose and mouth, swirling inside his brain, filling his lungs.

Any sane thought there might still exist gets destroyed. There’s only urge. An instinct etched deep inside his gut to _have,_ to _conquer_ , to _claim_.

Thor waits until he’s sleeping and then crouches over his form, sheltering him from the realm’s heat like an icy boulder, running thick hands over his lean body. Sharp nails rip into leather and cloth, shedding them on the floor.

Loki wakes up with a start. Both of his hands holding his daggers get caught in one rough palm, easily the size of both of his.

“You smell so good.” Thor’s voice comes out like a rumble.

Thor’s mouth is everywhere. His free hand is everywhere. His voice is rough from disuse as he shushes him, whispering to him how good he smells, how good he will have him, how beautiful he is, what a good pray he has been.

Loki’s face is wet, teeth clenching and sight filled with crimson and yellow and blue.

Thor’s lips are soft on his mouth, teeth sharp on his neck, tongue slick on his chest, on his tummy and even lower, on his cock and against his asshole.

Loki gasps, mortified at the way his body reacts. At how ready it had been for its subjugation. He wants to hate it, he wants to resist, to draw blood and _kill_ , but the stroke of the Giant’s tongue on his entrance raises shivers in his spine, goosebumps on his body and tears in his eyes by how _good_ it feels.

He moans when Thor’s tongue pushes in. So thick, so big.

Everything on him is big.

The depravity of it all shakes him to his core.

Loki keens and Loki whines, thrashing in the Giant’s hold from sheer pleasure. The tongue’s drag is slow, slippery and smart, stretching him sweetly, opening him up to receive a thick finger. Loki jerks in surprise and moans when his prostate gets nudged, then there is another finger squelching in, making room for more.

It’s uncomfortable, the strain torturous and terrible. Loki’s cock is so hard against his stomach. The fingers pull and push inside him, scissoring, making way and the Giant retracts his tongue, sweeping it over Loki’s balls, dragging it all the way to Loki’s weeping head, lapping at the pre-spend.

Thor hums, rumbling in his chest, savouring the taste and the heady smell, taking only but a moment to refrain from having him, and then he takes the mage in his mouth, burying his nose in the nest of dark hair, sniffing, filling his lungs and holding in the breath until they start burning.

Loki whines when Thor adds another finger, trying limply to pull free his hands. But to no avail, their grip is solid, holding him into place. His legs are quivering, falling wide open when Thor starts moving his head, taking Loki’s length all the way to the back of his mouth and sucking.

Loki screams and comes, trembling awfully around Thor’s thick fingers and under his imposing form.

That’s it. Loki’s scent painting his mouth and throat, going all the way down to his stomach. He’s so good, so good. He’s Thor’s.

“Good boy.” Thor rumbles.

Loki gasps, moving his hips away from Thor, however, he only manages to drive his big fingers deeper. Loki keens.

It feels as if Thor is swallowing him whole. 

* * *

It takes hours.

It takes only minutes.

Loki is a panting mess on the ground, writhing under Thor’s ministrations, wanting for this syrupy-sweet torture to end. He has come thrice from Thor’s mouth, tongue and fingers and he doesn’t think he can take more.

“Please, _please,_ ” he chokes, chasing Thor’s mouth for a kiss, intoxicated by the taste of his spend in the Giant’s mouth, mixing with his natural minty breath.

Thor humours him, slotting his lips over Loki’s smaller one’s, meeting his little slithery tongue in a drag that has Thor growl in his chest. Loki whines in reply.

His consciousness has left him, along with reason or logic. He’s a slave to his urges, to the call of his magic singing at the sense of Thor’s.

“Call my name little one.” Thor rumbles, strong fingers bruisingly tight on Loki’s hips. Loki’s fingers tug on dusty blond locks, having found their way in-between the plaits immediately after Thor let go of his hands.

A litany of _Thor–Thor–Thor_ falls from his lips _,_ while Loki's moving his ass lazily, trying to catch on the head of Thor’s massive manhood. “ _Please ,Thor_.” He begs on a sob and feels his heart fluttering at the sight of the giant’s smile, full of sharp teeth.

Thor purrs and rolls his hips, slipping in just so.

Loki screams.

“I have you now.”

* * *

Finally there he is. The one he seeks.

No way to escape him now.

_Mine._

**Author's Note:**

> And then they made a bunch of adorable, terrorizing halflings, took over the Nine Realms and lived happily ever after! The end.
> 
> Hii~ my birthday has just rolled in and as I lay with a cold having nothing better to do I decided to post this 5 days earlier than intended. And on a Thursday uuuugh :S
> 
> This is waaaaays out of my usual way of writting. So I can only hope you enjoyed this little trip into my heavily-induced-with-smutty-thorki brain at 4am! Let me know if you did. 
> 
> Title and theme taken from [Du Riechst So Gut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrmsJhf89MY) (You Smell So Good) by Rammstein. 
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://theangrykimchi.tumblr.com) if you want to throw some prompts my way.


End file.
